


we spent our darkest days howling at the moon

by myskinisgone



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Fluff, M/M, anyways its a gift for my buddy james! ily sm, dallas winston is a dick, do i have to tag that., i got busy, i wanted to do soft shit., idk bitch swearing???, idk man, its gucci, johnny cade is my baby, soft shit, they're watching a sunrise man, this took me a few days, two (2) boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16203536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myskinisgone/pseuds/myskinisgone
Summary: sunrises. fluff. johnny and dal. dal is dumb. what else could you need?





	we spent our darkest days howling at the moon

_The storm passed overhead_

_Scratched our world to shreds_

_Close enough to turn our hair's attention_

_Turn the air yellow for hours_

_Have you ever seen such power?_

_Have you ever loved enough to destroy your love?_

_You could never love enough_

 

 

 

Dally quickened his pace down the street, head down and hands in his pockets. He was heading for the lot. He needed Johnny. The fresh cut on his cheek was still streaming blood, staining his, luckily, black undershirt.

 

He and his old man had fought, which ultimately led to his father breaking a beer bottle and cutting his jaw from lip to cheek in a drunken rage. It wasn’t too serious or anything, but.. it was deep. And it was bleeding, a lot. (It hurt like a goddamn bitch, too, but Dallas would never admit that)

 

He could only hope it hadn’t struck an artery- but, judging by the fact that he was still upright, he’d assume not.

 

He started to slow down as he finally reached the lot, walking up to the newspaper-clad lump that was Johnny. He stared down at him for a moment, before ‘lightly nudging’ (which really just means kicking when it comes to Dallas) the boy’s head with his foot. “Hey, sleepyhead, get up.” He grinned toothily. Johnny groaned and rolled over, looking up at him tiredly. “.. Dally?” He mumbled, squinting at him. “Nah. It’s Santa.” Dal retorted, before chuckling at his own joke.

 

He frowned when Johnny rolled over again to go back asleep, ‘lightly nudging’ him again. “Alright, c’mon, get off your ass.” Johnny gave him practically the hardest glare he’d ever seen, as if he was trying to kill him with only his eyes, but got to his feet. He stretched, arms raising into the air, and lifting his shirt just so a sliver of his tanned stomach was exposed. Dally tried not to stare, but failed. But the other didn’t seem to notice, and just yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

 

The smaller boy blinked a few times, his vision slowly adjusting. When it finally did, he gasped softly. “Oh, Dally, your cheek!” Dallas just cocked an eyebrow and smirked, puffing out his chest. But it was all in mock pride, all fake. He couldn’t give up his tough, cold exterior. Not right now. “Yeah, I know. Gonna make a nice scar.” Johnny shook his head, immediately seeing past his bluff.

 

He knew Dallas Winston. He was tough on the outside, but a little bit less tough on the inside. He was sweet, but in his own, very special way. He shoved the tow-headed boy to sit on a stump, earning a pissy huff. “Johnnycake, I swear, I’m fine. It’s- it’s just a little scratch.” Johnny responded to that by lightly touching the cut, to which Dallas immediately winced and clenched his jaw. He rolled his eyes. “Little scratch. Yeah.” He mumbled, and Dally nearly smacked him.

 

He started to tend to the wound, using the last of his water to help clean it. Dally saw it out of the corner of his eye and frowned. “Hey, don’t waste that shit on me. You need to drink, man.” Johnny shrugged. “Then I’lll die. I just don’t want you to get an infection and end up sick as a dog.”

 

Winston stayed quiet after that, only occasionally letting out little hisses of pain or mumbled complaints. Johnny stuck some gauze to it, before sitting next to him. “Learned how to do this the first time my father cut me. I’ve gotten used to it.” He mused as he stared up at the trees overhead, as if what he was talking about was the most normal thing in the world.

Dallas nodded. He could relate to that, but his father rarely physically touched him. Mostly just screamed at him and threw shit. He learned how to patch himself after getting slashed with broken bottles and switchblades a few times in fights.

 

They were quiet, nothing much to say, just watching the moonlight filter through the tree branches.

 

After a moment of awkward silence, Johnny sat up. “H-hey, I wanna show you something.” He stood, dusting his hands off on his worn jeans before offering a hand to help Dallas up.

 

The taller boy groaned, reluctant to move. He was comfortable- well, as comfortable you could get laying in the dirt against a log- but, still, comfortable. But Johnny was looking at him with those big brown eyes of him and.. ah, fuck. He couldn’t say no.

 

He stood, though ignored the hand to show he was a little annoyed. Johnny didn’t seem to mind much that Dal had ignored his polite gesture. He was used to not being treated too kindly.

 

He headed off towards his own house, Dally looking confused. “Hey, where are we goin’?” Johnny turned to flash him a glare, annoyed with his impatience. Dallas shut up.

 

Johnny hopped the fence to his house, jumping and grabbing a ledge of the roof, hauling himself up with a little groan from the effort. He turned around, outstretching a hand to help Dally up. Dally could easily do it on his own, but.. He took the hand, climbing up and sitting next to him.

 

They sat there in silence for a few moments, Dallas starting to get bored. He was itching for a cigarette, and cold. “Why’d ya even drag me up here? For me to freeze my ass off?” Johnny turned and frowned at him. “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you go and stay with Two-Bit?”

 

Dally opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He’d stayed at Two-Bit’s place once. He’d been piss-drunk, barely able to stand, and he obviously couldn’t go back to his old man’s house. The Curtis brothers didn’t want him to tear up their house, and he and Tim had been fighting at the time. So Two-Bit’s was the only option, unless he wanted to sleep in an alleyway. Which he _had_ done before, but very much did not enjoy. So he headed off to Two’s house and, to make a long story short, did not get much sleep due to the other boy wanting to talk all night, all while slamming back cans of beer and blasting music.

 

Johnny grinned triumphantly, elbowing him playfully. “Yeah. that’s what I thought. Now shut up.”

 

Dally stared at him in surprise for a second, ice-blue eyes widening a bit. He normally would’ve knocked out someone’s front teeth for saying something like that, but.. Johnny was different.

 

Maybe it was because he was so broken, so pitiful-looking, he just made your heart hurt a little looking at him. He looked like an abused puppy, with those huge brown eyes and timid expression, as if he was just waiting for you to scream at him and hit him.

 

Dally’s always hated dogs. Hated how they yapped and snarled and howled, hated how damn sharp their teeth were, hated how annoying they were. But.. well.. this was one puppy he couldn’t get off his mind.

 

Johnny interrupted his thoughts by gasping, and nudging him. “Dals, _look_!” He half-whispered half-shouted. Dally looked up, watching the sun lazily rise into the dawn sky, oranges and yellows and reds leaking through the slowly lightening dark blue of night.

 

Dally watched for a few moments, as much as his oh so short attention span could handle, before huffing and turning to Johnny, opening his mouth to say something about how shit this was and how he’d much rather go and terrorize grade school kids.

 

The words stopped dead in his mouth when he saw the child-like joy on Johnny’s face. He genuinely looked like a damn kid in a candy store.

 

No, he looked like a _kid_.

 

Johnny never looked like that. He always looked so old in some sort of way, like life had beaten him and stripped him of all of his childhood, leaving him with no chance to truly mess around and have fun, enjoy himself. This was the first time he’d ever actually.. looked 16.

 

Dally realized he was staring when Johnny glanced back over to him, dark brown eyes bright and playful, genuinely happy. “What? Do I got somethin’ on my face?” Dally responded by smacking him on the cheek, though not hard enough to actually hurt him. “Ya gotta fly on your face.” Johnny laughed softly and shoved him. “Bastard.” He teased.

 

Dally was smiling- he couldn’t help it. He never smiled, and when he did, it was for all the wrong reasons. He didn’t understand why Johnny, of all people, was making him this happy. Why not Two-Bit, the stupid yet funny one? Or Soda, the charismatic, fun to be around one? He didn’t get it. Not that he was complaining, but.. it was confusing to him.

 

His thoughts were interrupted yet again by Johnny leaning against him. Dally grunted in surprise and glanced down at him, smiling a little. “You cold, kid?” Johnny nodded a little, but frowned. “Don’t call me kid. I’m only a year younger than ya.” Dallas snorted, tussling his hair and earning a squeak of protest when he did. “You’ll always be ‘kid’ to me until you hit a growth spurt, _kid_.” Johnny smacked him in the stomach, Dally grunting in pain before chuckling.

 

He turned his head to the side to hide his reddening face, Johnny doing the same. There was a silence for a minute or two, though it was pleasant, comfortable, not awkward. Something he could live in forever, he thought.

 

They sat in that warm blanket of silence until Dallas finally broke the silence by speaking. “Hey, Johnny, why do you and Pony like sunrises so much?”

 

Johnny bit his lip, looking off as he thought. “I.. don’t know, really. They’re just.. beautiful. You don’t see much beautiful stuff ‘round here. Only dead kids, disease, poverty.. none of that is beautiful. Sunrises are fleeting but it’s somethin’ promised, somethin’ guaranteed. Hardly anything is for sure around here. Only thing you know will happen to you is death.” Johnny mumble, words a bit slurred from chewing on his lip while he talked. “Success isn’t guaranteed, happiness isn’t guaranteed. But that little moment of beauty.. it is. And then I jus’ know it’ll all be okay.”

 

Dally nodded, though didn’t really understand. But he’d try to understand, for him. “.. yeah, I guess. I’ve never thought about it like that.”

 

Dally had never been one with words. He just.. couldn’t understand. To him, life was about harassing broads and beating shit up for his own sick pleasure. His whole life was self-centered, all for him. But, he thought, Johnny ain’t like that. Johnny ain’t selfish like he is am.

 

He glanced over at the smaller boy. Johnny doesn’t deserve this, he realized. He’s done nothing wrong in his entire life. His only mistake was existing in the wrong place, at the right time. It wasn’t fair for him to have shit parents and a shit life. He was a good kid. He didn’t deserve any of this.

 

Dally huffed a little in surprise when he felt Johnny lean into him, nestling himself against his jacket. He tensed up for a few seconds before relaxing, leaning back a little and stretching. He gently messed Johnny’s hair, eyes soft with affection. “You’re safe with me, kiddo.” He murmured, and even though he couldn’t see the other boy’s face, he knew he was smiling.

 

A shrill shriek came from inside the house. “Johnny!” It cried. “Johnny, get the hell inside!” Johnny’s smile fell, his normal sheepish, timid self coming back. That momentarily content and carefree boy gone. “S-sorry, man. I’ve got to go.” He mumbled softly, sliding off the roof before Dallas could even say goodbye.

 

Dallas sat there for a few moments, before hopping off the roof and watch Johnny scrambled to get inside. He stared at the sunset for a few more moments, hands shoved in his pockets. His mind strayed back to their conversation, from only minutes earlier.

 

A promised beauty, he thought. Guess that’s one way to think about it.

 

He turned around with that final thought on the matter, kicking rocks with his head down and a lit cigarette on his lip as he walked back home.

 

 

 

_Close enough to see our low condition_

_And did you wish that we were one?_

_Have you ever known your maker?_

_Could you ever lead your song aloft the mountain tops?_

_You could never swing that dagger_

**Author's Note:**

> ily james uwu


End file.
